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We were in synchronization. Jack and jill, cum up the hill. I was fucking my fingers into my pussy and he was jacking his hard cock. Of course, he couldn't beat me to a cum, but he wasn't far behind. I was wishing he was in my behind, but that is another story. Giggle. I took my hand out of my cunt and started licking my fingers. I loved the taste of my own cum juices. He kept right on jerking as if his life depended upon it. My pleasure didn't, for I had juices still flowing, but I wanted him to please me with his spunk flying high, up in the sky, maybe into my eye. Finally, as he jacked off with his right hand he reached with his left for his cup of coffee. He placed the cup in front of his cock and started squirting cum into it. It looked like a pint or so, but, of course, couldn't have been. Damn, I wanted to see it spurt out. Oh well, easy cum, easy flow. We both took a cloth napkin from the table and softly wiped ourselves clean. He smelled his, I smelled mine, it was fine,. Marie kissed me, then knelt in front of me and slipped my feet into my black heels; my reflection was suddenly that of a tall, sexy woman. These sandals are made of shiny, patent leather, similar to the ones my father gave me when I set off for America, and even though I’ve worn them frequently they’re still almost too high for me to walk in, and apart from the slight platform sole and the thin, spike heel there is virtually nothing of them! My bare foot is held in place by a thin strap across my toes and another which buckles round my ankle. Even although your instructions were that I should not be tied or clipped in place, and that I should remain as your vulnerable and willing victim through force of my own will alone, Marie knelt naked at my feet and buckled my ankle straps in place. My straps are my ?uniform?, they are what I wear when I am to be chastised, and they are redolent with wonderful memories of pain offered and received, and of sweet, sweating orgasms achieved at.
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